Windows to Other Worlds In a cat's eyes, all things belong to cats. Anonymous   The thoughtful eyes of the Canadian Lynx gazed into mine, lucent orbs that held neither anger nor fear at our abrupt meeting. There seemed no resentment evident, despite my having spoiled the afternoon hunt. Sitting comfortably, the lynx seemed unconcerned by my close presence. A shaggy ruff framed the beautiful face and long tassels extended above the ears, gently leaning outward at their tips. Keen intelligence radiated from eyes calmly assessing both the situation and me. Poets say eyes are the windows of the soul and these sparkled as exquisitely as a cathedral's rose-window.   How had I managed to track down this magnificent feline? By tracking paw prints through snow across a mountain range? By crawling into a concealed blind before dawn near a den? By hiring a guide to lead me to a hidden lair? Well...no. I found this lynx by trailing a Snowshoe Hare from a parking lot into the woods. Not as dramatic perhaps, but it does have the advantage of being true.   I was exploring the Yukon Territory of Canada, one of the most beautiful corners of North America, on a bright but cold late May day. From the day's very start, everything had seemed especially vibrant and promising. Driving North from Haines, Alaska, we found a sleek Black Bear busy grazing on the lush verdure. So intent on feeding that it mostly ignored us, this bear may have only recently emerged from hibernation. After watching it contentedly munch grass for a while, we continued on through a small extension of British Columbia. The road rose onto high open plateaus still in the grip of winter, with snow filled valleys and desolate ridges as far as the eye could see, all white and gray. Movement drew my eye to a Coyote trotting through clumps of stark and leafless bushes. The Coyote's passage flushed birds from the dense brush but a quick look told the Coyote that to go after them would be a waste of effort. Could those be ptarmigans I was seeing? That's not a bird to ignore!   Moments later I'm the one trudging through three-foot deep snow hoping to flush some birds myself. Arctic Ground Squirrels stood straight and tall by their holes in the snow and watched my lumbering form nervously. At last I spotted a pair of Willow Ptarmigans under a bare clump of branches. With their plumage changing from the pure white of winter to summer browns, they stood out sharply against the snow. A very distinguished male arrayed in a dark reddish brown head with a plump crimson comb over each eye; the female was plainer but still attractive in her mottled panoply.   They clucked quietly to each other while picking new buds from willowy twigs, standing on tiptoes to reach those above their heads. Another male flying by us instantly caused the resident male to launch after the trespasser, discouraging any of his ideas to stay nearby. Upon returning to the lady, the resident male seemed agitated and began strutting, fanning his black tail towards her while giving an accelerating series of hoarse, rising calls. She ignored him, of course, as they both ignored me. It is a truly amazing experience to observe wild animals, completely unconcerned by your close attention, as they go about whatever their business happens to be.   After enjoying them for a while, I continued on and found the main stage, where many males were working hard at showing off and causing trouble. Strutting, displaying, chasing each other, calling, all seemed so engrossed that it didn't seem to worry anyone that there were no females near. It must be one of those things where the journey is its own reward. Their combs stood out as rubies against the snow and their piebald plumage seemed to draw attention instead of conceal.   Then a hen made the mistake of wandering through this mess. Her appearance briefly distracted one male who began pursuing her around a bush. And around...and around...and around, in that brisk and dignified walk grouse seem to have perfected. But before this living carrousel of pursuit could become totally absurd, the pursuer broke away to drive off a second approaching male, allowing the hen to escape back into obscurity. Well, there's plenty more where she came from.... Oh wait; there aren't any more in sight. What's a lonely young fellow to do? The answer seemed to be to resume strutting and displaying at the other males, free from any more annoyingly indifferent women. There were too many ptarmigan to count as they were erratically running in and out of cover, but this was the finest grouse show I've ever witnessed. On most days this performance would have been the highlight, but now it was merely the opening act with the best still to come.   Leaving the open snowy ridges, we entered the Yukon and the magnificent mountains of Kluane National Park. Some people love rugged seacoasts, others thrive in the desert's solitude and purity, but I am most at home in mountains and evergreen forests. And they don't get much better than in this rugged area, where the highest mountain in Canada towers and huge stretches of roadless backcountry harbor many wonderful inhabitants. Snow white Dall Sheep on steep rocky slopes, Moose in the conifer woods, ponds and mudflats full of ducks and shorebirds, Bonaparte's Gulls and Red-necked Phalaropes picking along lake edges, Swainson's Hawks soaring overhead. Broken rock slopes, nearly devoid of vegetation, still held small alpine flowers whipping in the wind. The day was very cold and snowed intermittently. This area is virtually deserted at this time of year, and we went hours without seeing another person or car. It was in this setting that we reached Kathleen Lake.   From the deserted parking lot, we hiked out to the emerald jewel of a lake, surrounded on three sides by snow covered mountains. Ice floated on the dark water and as the wind shifted and gusted the shattered ice ground against itself in an extraordinary symphony of delicate crystal chiming. We stood still and silent a long time in the icy wind, absorbing the constantly varying music of the ice. Given the setting, I half expected a samite covered arm to emerge from the lake depths, bearing Excalibur in her hand, but maybe that happened after we left.... Mew Gulls walked on the ice, picking at mysterious tidbits only they could see. A plain gray Least Chipmunk, mouth stuffed full of bedding, summoned the courage to dash between us and the shore, complaining softly at our intrusion. A flock of Common Redpolls, one of the North's resident specialties, worked their way around us through low bushes. They reminded me of chickadees with their soft voices and quick movements. Deeply satisfied, we quietly departed this magical sanctuary, not realizing that the best was still to come.   Back in the parking lot, Dad spotted a Snowshoe Hare, but by the time I arrived it had dashed away. Now snowshoes aren't the rarest animal ever, but that's no reason to pass an opportunity to see one. I quickly headed into the trees but never spotted that hare. Emerging into a clearing grown with scattered fir trees, I looked around for it but instead found a huge cat calmly watching me. Seated about fifty feet away, it seemed close enough for me to reach out and touch those tufted ears. The lynx had a thick winter coat of smooth gray fur, shading to brown on the legs, a gorgeous cat in every way. But the eyes captured my attention most. Blinking sleepily, they held that classic mixture of curiosity and indifference cats have perfected. I have seen the exact look in the eyes of my two cats more times than I can remember. These eyes alternately watched me or looked away at interesting distractions or closed peacefully. The lynx may have lost a rabbit dinner but never lost its poise.   Dad and I stood motionless, the cat sat peacefully, and we all watched each other for many minutes. A frozen moment, perfect in every way, that I wished could have lasted longer, but eventually something Important caught the cat's attention. With graceful ease the lynx stood and turned away, showing a black-tipped stub tail and remarkably long hind legs. Their huge feet--perfect for traveling across deep snow--set these cats apart from any other North American feline. Making not a sound, the lynx glided away through the trees. Never in a hurry, it leaped effortlessly up a steep bank and vanished.   How can I convey my feelings during this extraordinary experience? Exaltation, disbelief, peace, connection, wonder, fulfillment; all were present as I looked into those eyes. I have a special fondness for cats and lynx are one of the most ethereal and elusive. I know quite a few people who have seen Bobcats and even Mountain Lions, but even people who live in lynx territory are lucky to see one in a lifetime. Lynx can be common, especially when Snowshoe Hares are numerous, but finding them even then is difficult. I'm extremely grateful to the hare that led me to the cat, and the hare should be grateful for my distracting the cat from lunch. The hare and I both benefited enormously and the cat didn't seem terribly put out about the whole thing. Hopefully the lynx found some interest in our chance meeting as well. So now you have some idea of what I do. While traveling through the U.S. and Canada for the last twenty years, I have spent as much time as possible exploring the natural habitats of wherever I happen to be. It doesn't matter if it's southern swamp or northwest rain forest or even midwest prairie; all are unique and special. Plant life, scenery, and geography are always interesting but what most thrills me are the animals. Large or small, common or rare, they are all special and worth seeing. Some are shy and all but impossible to find; others must be shooed out of the way. I love them all and am always out to find more, especially those species that I've never yet seen. It's that needing to see what's around the next bend or over the next hill; you never know what you might find next. In the process I've had countless encounters with animals of every personality and description. Seeing how they live and react has been like looking into other worlds of thought and behavior. Glimpsing those worlds has been the most rewarding experiences of my life. So come with me now and meet a few of the animals I have seen.